That sudden urge to sit on the other man’s lap and color in the black and white flowers on the page.

Robbing the one next to you of your dreams when you are under the covers.

Stray thoughts lead to sprouted fantasies.

Far from the nightclubs with whiskey jars, it is cloaked in ordinary urges, lust is more like a pounding lie that everything will be different when you meet the real one.

That golden man will love you more.

He will be different. You will be different with him.

But there is no escape route with lust.

It is a dead end with two broken people and a lie.



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